Wendy placed her guitar case gingerly on the dining room table, the neck barely dodging the always-lit candle in the center.

“I’m home!” she called.

“How was it?” Mrs. Jonson, Wendy’s mom, asked from the stove. Several strands of black hair were loose and her cheeks were flushed from the heat.

“It was good,” Wendy said. “Well, except for Josh Mans!”

“Josh who?” Mrs. Jonson asked.

Wendy had been on a trip with some kids from the city. Although Wendy was homeschooled, every kid her age had taken a special history test and then the ones that did well got to go on a special trip to Washington, D.C.

“Josh Mans,” Wendy said again. “He’s the most obnoxious, conceited, jerky, arrogant, ignorant…” she stopped, not having a big enough vocabulary to continue her tirade. “In the words of Lady Margaretha,” she finally said, quoting The Princess Spy and her favorite go-to when she was speechless, “‘I don’t know enough English words to insult him properly.’”

“Hmm, sounds drastic,” Mr. Jonson said, walking to the fridge and grabbing a soda after getting Wendy’s luggage out of the car.

“Ha ha, Dad,” Wendy laughed sarcastically. “I’m serious! I hate him!”

Mrs. Jonson looked at her sternly. “We don’t hate people, Wendy,” she said firmly.

“But—” Wendy started to protest, but Mrs. Jonson stopped her.

“Go upstairs and unpack. Ask God what to do about this Josh man,” Mrs. Jonson suggested, returning her attention to the stove.

“Josh Mans,” Wendy corrected grumpily as she trudged upstairs to her room.

Once up there, she took one look at her suitcase and flopped onto her bed. Just then, her phone started to ring, and she looked at who it was. She grinned. It was Lucy Lopez, her best friend. She accepted the call.

“Hey, girl!” she said cheerfully.

“Hey, Wendy,” Lucy replied. Her voice sounded slightly higher through the cell phone. “How are you? Did you get back from the trip yet?”

“Yeah, just got back,” Wendy replied, scooting her legs together to sit criss-cross.

“Oh, OK. Will I see you in band tomorrow?” Lucy asked.

Band was Wendy’s favorite extracurricular activity although she had a variety of them: sports, band, gymnastics, horse riding, swimming…

“Yeah, you’ll see me,” Wendy said. “That is, unless if my plans have changed.”

“Did you hear we’ll have a new kid in band?” Lucy asked.

“No,” Wendy said, starting to feel intrigued. “Who? What instrument do they play?”

She played clarinet herself, but Lucy played piccolo.

“I believe the name is Josh Mans,” Lucy said, and Wendy jumped. “He plays sax if I’m not mistaken. He’s supposed to be pretty good, but also a bit of a problem kid.”

“A problem kid?!” Wendy screeched into the phone. “Wait till you meet him!”

“Wait, how do you know him?” Lucy asked. “And not so loudly, girl. You’re not on speaker phone!”

“Sorry,” Wendy said in a sarcastic whisper. Then she returned to her normal voice. “I met him on the history trip. He knocked over some kind of precious glass object, and it shattered. Guess who got the blame?”

“You.” By the tone of Lucy’s voice, Wendy knew she wasn’t guessing.

“Yes!” Wendy exclaimed. “I had to pay $50! I was ready to blow my top. Why didn’t the chaperone just believe me?”

“Well,” Lucy sounded hesitant, “he was probably giving Josh the benefit of the doubt ’cause he’s the new kid and all. Plus, there was that time you broke your bedroom window…and that time you jumped on your bed and it collapsed…and that time you tried exploring your attic…”

“OK, OK!” Wendy laughed. “I get the idea. But still! I know I’m supposed to be nice to my enemies and stuff, but does God know how infuriating it is being nice to Josh?”

“I think He does,” Lucy said.

“But does He though?” Wendy asked. She knew she sounded sacrilegious, but it was a genuine question.

“IDK,” Lucy said, sounding like she was shrugging. “Anyways, just wanted to check in. So, did you meet the president?”

The next day, Wendy was carrying her clarinet into band when someone brushed past her. She lost her grip on the handle, and the case fell to the ground.

“Hey, watch it, Jonson!” Josh shouted as he raced another boy to the water fountain.

“You ran into me!” Wendy protested.

With an exasperated and slightly dramatized groan she picked up her clarinet case and resolved to struggle through the rest of band. It didn’t get better.

Josh wasn’t a very good sax player by Wendy’s standards, and Wendy was volunteered to teach him tonguing. That didn’t work because Josh always did the exact opposite of what she asked and jeered at her. Then he noticed the scripture on the back of her shirt, John 3:16.

“Oh, you’re into that goofy stuff?” he asked.

Wendy sighed. “Can we just please focus on tonguing?”

“Nah, girl!” Josh exclaimed. “How can you believe,” he switched to a monotone voice and expression, “‘And God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son,’” he switched back, “blah, blah, blegh? It’s so last century!”

“Whatever,” Wendy muttered. “Your sax playing is so last century! Who plays an octave lower than they’re supposed to?”

“Hey!” Josh exclaimed. “Your clarinet playing sucks too, just for the record.”

“Well, on the record,” Wendy said, her voice rising, “you’re an ignorant, ugly, stupid brat!”

“Well, you’re a good-for-nothing goody-two-shoes!” Josh shouted back at her.

“That’s it!” Wendy roared. “I give up! You can figure out tonguing on your own!”